Why I Write

[jpskewedthrone]

I asked a couple of posts ago (before heading off to Confluence in Pittsburgh), why do you write? I got a ton of great answers, but it got me to thinking about why I, personally, write, and the answer wasn't simple. So here's my ruminations of why I think I write. The reasons have changed over the years.

I didn't even think about writing until the 8th grade. I've told the story before, but in 8th grade English we were assigned to write a "Twilight Zone" story and I wrote a one page (handwritten) story called "Aquantico" about a man looking out the porthole of his space as he fled the watery destruction of his world. Sort of Atlantis in space, or at least Atlantis on a different planet. The English teacher wrote that the story was good and I should write more.

It was a revelatory moment for me. People wrote the books that I read? I hadn't really thought about it that much. I just picked the books up from the library. I didn't think about where they came from. Sort of like picking up milk from the supermarket, without thought about where the milk comes from. It's just there. (Or if it's not, you get pissed.)

That's when I started writing. I wrote a few more "Twilight Zone" short stories. I entered a few contests. I began a "novel" in which me and my friends were transported to a strange new magical world and were forced to learn to survive without any of our modern day equipment. I spent a good long chapter of this story having us try to find food. For the most part, the stories sucked, but they were fun to write. They were fun to THINK about. So I wrote. My sole purpose in writing at this point was pure enjoyment. And to torture my friends into reading them.

But then I ran into the "Magic in Ithkar" shared world series by Andre Norton and I suddenly wondered if I could write something for that. This was a shift in my thinking, because I actually wanted to get what I'd written into one of the books. There were rules and deadlines and I was filled with the shivery feeling that PERHAPS I could write well enough that I'd actually WIN. My mind was filled with the desire to see my stuff in print. I wasn't thinking of anything else at this point except that possibility. There was no other factor in this desire. So I wrote a story for "Magic in Ithkar", typed it up (using TONS of correction tape) and sent it in. Nothing happened with that of course. But the desire to see my writing in print didn't fade. I began thinking about novels. Short stories were fun, but a novel . . . I LOVED novels.

So I began a novel and forced comixboy to read and critique it, even though it was fantasy and he didn't read fantasy. That's the hazard of being someone's "only" true friend I guess. *grin* And I loved writing this novel. I thought it was great. I had this world, and as I wrote I kept expanding on it, and it grew and slowly came alive. Along the way, I also wrote more short stories, because there was this new contest called "Writers of the Future" and I vowed I would get a story in that. I wrote a short story for every quarter for about a year, but then that died out because the novel took over. The goal, the reason I was writing, was to become good enough to see my writing in print. Oh, it was still fun, even moreso because now I had an entire world I could play in. And get this: I WAS GETTING BETTER AT THE WRITING. Sure, I trashed the first draft of the novel when, going back to reread it, I realized that it sucked. The writing sucked anyway. The idea had solidified as I wrote. The characters as well. So during the revisions (and the revisions of the revisions) I was writing for fun, to see my writing in print, and now, in addition, I was writing because suddenly these characters needed their story told. And I was suddenly starting to believe that perhaps I was the person who could tell that story. That I was GOOD ENOUGH to tell that story.

And here's where a new factor entered the equation. During all of this time, writing and revising and immersing myself in this novel, I'd been reading. Of course I'd been reading. Reading is what sparks the imagination and the desire to write in the first place. But now something new was happening: as I read, I began to critique what I was reading. And I'd advanced far enough into the "learning to write" phase that I was coming to believe that I WAS BETTER THAN SOME OF THE AUTHORS I WAS READING. This is what I believed anyway. Whether it was true or not is hard to judge. I mean, I still THINK I was better than those authors at that time, but perhaps I wouldn't announce it as loudly now as I would have back then.

In any case, this little niggling dream of seeing my writing in print suddenly seemed like not so impossible a dream after all. At this point, I hit college. Actually, I hit grad school. I had to ask myself whether the writing was going to be just for fun, or whether I wanted to do something serious with it, because if it was just for fun then perhaps it should be set aside and my focus put into the degree and actually making some money. Here's the first time money even came into the picture for writing. And notice it wasn't even about getting money for writing, but rather whether I could survive without money while writing at the same time. In some sense, I was growing up and suddenly I neede PRIORITIES and I had to decide what those priorities were and whether they included writing.

This is a hard turning point to reach. Or a hard decision to make. I loved writing. I wanted to see my writing in print. I loved my characters and their story and their world. BUT WAS IT ENOUGH?

And the answer was yes . . . sort of. I decided I'd better get serious about the writing and actually start sending it out to agents and editors. BUT I also thought that it would be nice to have some money flowing in, so I needed the degree as well. I gave up a bunch of other things I liked to so (playing the piano, having a social life, reading) and reorganized my life so that I could do both the writing and the degree at the same time.

So, now I was writing because it was fun, because my characters had a story that I felt needed to be told, because I wanted to see my words in print . . . and because I thought I was good enough to actually GET into print. Notice there was still no money factor, because the degree was supposed to handle the money aspect end of things.

And eventually I did find an agent and an editor and suddenly my work was going to see print. Took a few books, a lot of stress, many, many rejections, but it happened. Up until the point of the sale though, it was still the drive to see my writing in print that was my focus. But now I had contracts. And guess what? THERE WAS MONEY INVOLVED IN THE CONTRACTS. Money? Really? Not much. More than I expected though. This is when the money first really came into the picture. And this is when the entire writing process took a sharp left turn from what it had been before. Because now I had contracts, and I'd agreed to write books that hadn't been written yet and whose plot I didn't really know, and there were these new things called DEADLINES. I mean, deadline for short stories for contests are one thing; deadline for novels . . . something different.

At this stage I was writing because I still loved it, even with additional pressures added into the enjoyment, but I was also writing in some sense for the money. Obviously I couldn't live off of the money, but money had become a factor. Because for the first time I think I really and truly believed that there was money INVOLVED. Up to this point I knew that money was talked about, but it was a concept, it wasn't real. Now it was real.

So I wrote, and I made my deadline and I got a new contract. During all of this time, I wrote for the following reasons:

* I enjoy it. The money certainly isn't enough to warrant me doing it for money alone.

* I love my world and my characters and I want to tell their story.

* I continue to want to see my writing in print (even though some of it already is in print; I don't think this want every really dies).

* And I like the money. I mean, I meet the deadlines and crave new contracts because of all of these things, but really, the money is nice. It would be nice to have MORE money. It would be nice to get enough money from the writing that I wouldn't necessarily have to use the degrees.

That's why I write.